A Soldiers Tale
by TheRican
Summary: A story about a group of soldiers encountering a Predator while in a series of war games. Story is told from the POV of the Sarge.
1. Into the Pot

NOTE: PREDATOR IS A TRADEMARK OF 21ST CENTURY FOX ENTERTAINMENT. I DO NOT HOLD ANY CLAIMS OF OWNERSHIP. THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE FICTIONAL AND ANY PARALLELS TO ACTUAL PERSONS OR EVENTS IS STRICTLY COINCIDENTAL.

**I. Into the Pot**

The sky was as clear blue as I have ever seen it. With a sight like that, who would think that such terrible things could happen anywhere on this world. Well, I could sure tell you that terrible things do happen and not just from your fellow man.

The hum of the helicopter was comforting. After the last two days of being frightened, watching your friends killed and fighting for your survival, fatigue can set in. But I am getting ahead of myself. It all started four days ago…

"I said I wanted those fucking sentry guns up by 1800 hours. It is now 1940, what the fuck have you been doing for the last 2 hours and 40 minutes?" I yelled at Johansson and Ridder.

"Ah hell Sarge, what is up your ass?" replied Ridder.

"LT is breathing down my neck, he wants these damn things set up for some reason. Not like we are going to get attacked by anything soon and all. We are in the forrest which happens to be the middle of no where. But I have to act like I have some control over you fuck heads so get a move on with that damn sentry weapon. I don't want to hear any more sit from that guy, he gives me the willies," I said.

"Sure thing Boss, but do we have to do it now?" Johansson questioned. I gave frowned at him as he started to laugh at my inability to instill some kind of work ethic into his life.

I walked away and heard Ridder and Johansson working on the sentry. I headed towards the control tent. This 'war-game' was being conducted under the control of a three-star general and was said to have a 'tactical importance' to the security of our country. To me, I thought this whole thing was a waste of my time. We camp out in the woods for a couple of days, run around playing war games with our 'enemy' which were Special Forces. Dropping a squad of Army regulars in with those SF types was very shaky of a deal.

"Sir, I have just checked on the status of the sentry weapons. It seems that there was some kind of mechanical problem. Johansson and Ridder have diagnosed the problem and will have the guns up ASAP," I reported.

"Very well," gruffed the LT. I was just assigned this guy by division. Apprently my old LT got into a car accident and is up in the hospital in a full body cast. This new LT wouldn't be my first choice. He was a seasoned vet, fighting in Desert Storm I and II; however I can't really place his age. He is a white male, about 5'5" mildly built and he looks to be in his early 40's late 30's and very much a hard ass.

"Sir, Is there anything else that needs to be squared away? If not, I request permission to take this time to brief the rest of my squad on the conditions and rules of the war game, sir." I asked.

"Carry on soldier." Was his reply.

I walked to the large tent that was housing my men. We were a ragtag sort of group. My squad consisted of five persons, six including myself. We had our machine gunner Johansson, three grunts with M16's which included Baxter, Simmons and Costello, our medic Ridder and I carrying an M4 Carbine with ACOG 4x scope and bipod undercarriage.

Sitting inside were, Baxter, Simmons and Costello. Baxter was a scrawny little kid from Texas who joined the Army to get away from his domineering parents. He had hazel eyes and blond hair and stood about 5'9" off the ground. Simmons was a direct contrast to Baxter who was fairly short, but a stocky guy. He had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. Costello was 6'3" tall, had black hair and wasn't exactly muscular but not a wimp either. I have brown eyes, black hair, stand 5'11" and have a medium muscle build.

"Howdy Sarge," Baxter greeted "so whats going on?"

"Hi Baxter. Costello, Simmons gather 'round. Alright men, it seems that we are in a war game situation facing some Special Forces squad," groans emitted out of all three men "I am told that we are to engage the enemy in quadrant E5 during the morning hours of tomorrow. Before you ask the sentry gun is being set up in case they make a sneak attack during the night. We will be using MILES gear which I am sure everyone here is familiar. Any questions?"

"Yea," Costello said, "so we are expected to take out a squad of Special Forces? What chicken shit idea is this? We are going to get our asses handed to us. Requesting to call in sick in the morning."

"Shut up Costello, you will do what you are told and like it. I don't like the whole idea either, but this came directly from a three star. Now, I don't have to tell you what kind of trouble a general with a hard-on can cause you, so I think its best we go out their and die in the most gruesome and militaristic way humanly possible. So we can claim we at least tried," I answered. "If there are no more questions carry on and try to get some shut-eye. Tomorrow we all die."

I layed down in my bunk and dosed off. The next thing I know I am being shaken awake by Baxter.

"Sarge, sarge! Did you hear that?" He asked.

"Hear what, shut up and go to bed," I answered.

"Sir, I thought I heard gunfire and shots coming from the forrest," he said.

"I am ordering you to go back to bed. Its just your nerves getting to you. Don't worry we will get some of those SF guys tomorrow, now lemme alone so I can think clearly in the morning," I said, pointing to his bunk.

I was never bothered during the rest of the night, however I thought I also heard sounds coming from the forrest. I just thought it was nerves, but I was dead wrong.


	2. Into the Fire

**II. Into the Fire**

It was around 0700 and my men and I were making our way towards the "enemy" encampment. By walking, I mean, we were trying our hardest to be quiet and stalk. It wasn't going to well, it seems that god had cursed me by giving me the most incompetent personnel on God's green Earth. Baxter was taking up point and failing miserably at it, falling all over the place hardly keeping his composure under the false pressure to perform; Johansson was making so much noise in the rear I was sure that we would be made before even seeing the other squad; Costello and Simmons were in-front of Johansson while myself and Ridder were on the either side of the main line.

The forest was mostly bland, with drab green colors and the sunshine bearly peaking through the canopy. It was damn hot for this early in the morning, if only the pencil pushers in Washington could see the affects of Global Warming first hand, they would think differently about things.

We continued on, moving slowly looking for signs of the enemy. We hadn't seen anything particularly out of the ordinary all morning, which was especially strange, since these SF boys were more than up to the task of kicking our asses and having an early breakfast. It wasn't until around 0730 we saw smoke rising.

Baxter looked back at me as I gave the signal to crouch low and huddle. As everyone came into the tight group, I thought about our next move.

"Everyone, stay sharp. I am sure this is some kind of trap set-up for us to fall into. I have never seen a tactic like this, but just to make sure I want everyone ready. We are going to inspect the source of this fire, but very carefully," I said.

I pressed the send button on my radio as I called back to HQ. "HQ, this is Dirty Dog, do you read?"

"This is HQ, go ahead Dirty Dog," came the reply.

"There is smoke rising from the general direction of the enemies HQ. Is everything alright and shall we proceed with the mission?" I questioned.

"That is affirmative Dirty Dog. Communications have been severed for the duration of this war-game. Proceed with caution, Over and Out," came the staticy voice over my comms set.

"Great, more bullshit to deal with. Alright, we are going to approach the base. I want a staggered formation with a 5 meter spread. Keep your eyes and ears open gentlemen and good hunting."

Everyone spread out and slowly started to approach the smoke. Our field of vision was limited as the smoke was filling up the trees, a perfect place to ambush us. Those damn SF guys were going to start a Forest fire if they weren't careful, what the hell was their deal anyway. They didn't need to go to all this trouble to get us; we are not much compared with their strategies and dedication to the unit.

As we closed in on the source of the fire, I knew something was terribly wrong. We stepped out into the clearing where the fire was raging and all we saw was a tattered and destroyed base camp. The faces of my comrades were priceless. They couldn't believe the scene that was displayed in front of them. The tents were in tatters with blood sprayed on the ground.

"HQ, this is Dirty Dog, come in over?" I spoke into my comms set. There was nothing but static, great this is all that I needed.

"Fucking $10,000 hammers and wrenches but they can't afford a decent fucking communication system," I spoke aloud sounding nervous.

Quickly I ordered everyone to, "Spread out among the tents and look for wounded / dead / survivors. I want a sitrep ASAP."

I moved towards the nearest tent and glanced inside. There was nothing out of the ordinary except for the obvious holes in the tent. I moved towards one of the crates and opened it. The crate contained live ammunition, which was quite strange considering this was a training exercise. I returned to my previous spot were my squad was already waiting.

"Nothing sir, not a goddamned thing. All we found were weapons and more bloodstains. What makes this even more strange is the fact that their weapons are loaded with live ammunition. What do we do now?" Johansson asked.

"What the fuck is going on here? Alright this is what we are going to do. Dump all your exercise equipment; we have officially crossed the line between exercise and hostile actions. Get geared up with live ammunition and leave anything that isn't absoleutely essential. I want us to be light just incase we have to move in a hurry," I spoke to my men.

Ridder looked at me with a puzzled expression on his face, "Uhhh Sarge, should I drop our medical supplies?"

I stared at him with the, are you a retard of course you shouldn't! look. He quickly scampered away and began collecting ammunition. Whomever did this couldn't be far off and they weren't going to get away.


End file.
